


i've told a million lies, but now i tell a single truth: there's you in everything i do.

by serenitysea



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Cute, F/M, Father-Daughter Relationship, Fluff, Kid Fic, No SHIELD, Surprise pregnancy, happiness
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-03
Updated: 2016-08-14
Packaged: 2018-05-30 21:54:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 12,655
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6442357
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/serenitysea/pseuds/serenitysea
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>skyeward + <i>hey my kid just shot a bottle rocket into your house</i> au. </p><p>(...let's just throw in a one night stand while we're at it, okay?)</p><p><b>aka</b>: the <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/series/363812">lara au</a> that never was. </p><p>*</p><p>He stifles a laugh behind his fist. “I was thinking of making grilled cheese.”</p><p>“Yes,” Lara imperiously states, stepping around the glass shards and boosting herself into a stool at the counter with hardly any difficulty. “We like grilled cheese.”</p><p>“Okay then,” he nods, grabbing a broom to sweep away the glass quickly. “Coming right up.”</p><p>“Also,” she leans forward onto the counter, staring at the remains of what was once his lunch, “crusts are terrible. Can you please cut them off for us?”</p><p>Grant has a moment to consider that Lara’s manners are not a total lost cause even in the sight of hunger. Impressive. “Absolutely.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [you are the guide and the weight of her world](https://archiveofourown.org/works/3953011) by [serenitysea](https://archiveofourown.org/users/serenitysea/pseuds/serenitysea). 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> YES HI HELLO. I AM ALIVE. 
> 
> hey remember how i used to write all the time before my life imploded in front of my very eyes and most of it was about a hurricane of a girl named lara loo? yeah. me too.
> 
> SO THIS IS JUST COMPLETELY OFF THE WALL OKAY? _okay_.

 He’s in the kitchen when the glass shatters, exploding inside and flying everywhere.

Grant curses loudly as a few pieces somehow ricochet far enough to sting his arms exposed by the short sleeved t-shirt and hands.

“What the _hell_?”

Before he can make sense of it, there is a knock on the door ( _it sounds weirdly as if it is coming from the ground?_ ) and he gingerly makes his way through the glass with minimal bleeding to yank open the door, intending to yell at whoever is on the other side, presumably responsible for this catastrophe –

– but there is no one there.

“Down _here_ ,” a tiny voice calls up to him, peevishly.

Grant looks down to see a small brunette girl with folded arms, impatience radiating from her frame. (How can such a little thing be radiating _impatience_? What are they _feeding children_ these days?) Given the relative safety of the neighborhood and the moving trucks he’d seen last weekend, it seems safe to conclude that she must live next door.

He clears his throat awkwardly. “Yes?”

“My rocket accidentally zoomed into your window.” She heaves an extremely labored sigh, as if this is all very tiresome to her. “I need to look at the wreckage so we can fix it.” With that, she darts past his legs and pushes into the house, dropping with a pained noise when she finds the broken pieces.

Grant is understandably alarmed at her outcry, thinking that she’s injured herself in some way ( _how will he explain this to her parents?_ ) but she just continues to make sad noises as she cradles a small figurine in her palm.

“Friend of yours?”

She flashes a relieved glance his way ( _something about her seems weirdly familiar?_ ), glad to have found a conspirator in crime rather than another angry adult. “She’s my best girl. Loves to fly.”

He realises with dawning clarity that this is not, in fact, the first time this small girl has shot a rocket. Nor does she seem all that alarmed about the damage his windows have sustained in the process. Seeing no other options but to try and keep her in one place before whoever is supposed to be looking after her _comes_ after her, he drops to be eye-level with her and the fallen ‘pilot.’

“I’m Grant.” He puts his hand out to shake, and the girl nods at him approvingly, instead tucking her figurine into his palm.

“I’m Lara. That’s Trixie, but I call her Trix because she always has a few more up her sleeve and normally,” a dark scowl forms on Lara’s face, “she manages to get herself out of any messes.”

“Well, Lara,” Grant tilts his head to the side, “Seems like Trix is having an off day.”

“Probably she’s just hungry,” Lara rolls her eyes. “One track mind.”

He stifles a laugh behind his fist. “I was thinking of making grilled cheese.”

“Yes,” Lara imperiously states, stepping around the glass shards and boosting herself into a stool at the counter with hardly any difficulty. “We like grilled cheese.”

“Okay then,” he nods, grabbing a broom to sweep away the glass quickly. “Coming right up.”

“Also,” she leans forward onto the counter, staring at the remains of what was once his lunch, “crusts are terrible. Can you please cut them off for us?”

Grant has a moment to consider that Lara’s manners are not a total lost cause even in the sight of hunger. Impressive. “Absolutely.”

“Perfect.” Armed with a pen (he’s completely unsure where she snagged that from) and yesterday’s newspapers, Lara sits and begins drawing moustaches on all the faces that are visible, giggling every so often and whispering to Trixie.

And Grant?

Grant sets about making the best damn grilled cheese of his life.

*

Thomas emerges from his bedroom about twenty minutes later, sleep rumpled and visibly disoriented. “I smell butter.”

“You do smell,” Lara pipes up from the counter, wrinkling her nose at him.

Thomas stares at her in slight disbelief. Then he looks at his brother in vague distress. “Am I hallucinating right now? Is there a tiny small in our kitchen?”

“There is.” Grant mildly confirms, pushing a glass of juice into Lara’s outstretched hand.

Thomas looks as though his brain is going to explode. “My head hurts.” He announces, glancing warily at Lara while she glares at him from over her juice. “I’m going to take a shower.”

After he disappears, Lara wipes her hands a napkin and slides down from the stool. She grabs her plate and carries it over to the sink, intending to put it inside, but she can’t see over the counter.

Grant sees the storm clouds brewing across her features and swiftly plucks the dish from her hand. “I got it, peanut.”

“Your house is very tall,” she tells him, looking aggrieved.

“It is.” He gravely agrees. “Since Thomas and I are tall though, it usually works out for us.”

“Thomas is the smelly one?”

Grant bursts out laughing. It takes him a minute to catch his breath. “He is indeed.”

“Well,” Lara sighs heavily, shaking her head, “Probably he needs a bath every day.”

“At the very least,” he soberly confirms.

There is an extended silence while he searches for something to say and Lara seems somehow disinclined to leave. She casts her gaze around the house curiously, walking into the living room and popping onto the gigantic leather couch. “Do you have any games?”

And now he is stumped.

“Just so you know, I take offense to your earlier statement,” Thomas announces, coming back into the room with a pack of cards in hand. “But as you can now see, I am minty fresh and clean.”

Lara eyes him closely as he drops into the seat next to her, causing her to tumble towards him slightly. She catches herself with a hand to his shoulder, looking distrustful of the hard muscle beneath her hand.

When Grant takes a seat across from them, she scrambles down and immediately climbs up beside him. “I am on his team,” Lara announces, lifting her chin at Thomas as if daring him to contradict her.

“We’re playing _War_ ,” Thomas scoffs, mildly offended. “There are no –”

“– _Thomas_ ,” Grant sharply reprimands.

“Fine.” Thomas scowls, cutting the deck in half and starting to deal the cards across the scarred coffee table. “The rules are –”

“– I know how to play _War_ ,” Lara sneers, snatching the cards up carefully without looking at them. She tucks herself closer to Grant, beckoning him to lean in and they begin discussing strategy.

“There is no _strategy_ in _War_!” Thomas all but bellows.

He is honestly unprepared for the smirk Lara sends his way. “That’s what _you_ think.”

*

Three rounds in and Thomas is getting his _ass_ handed to him by a six year old.

Lara slaps her hand down gleefully on the double war and whoops triumphantly. “We _win_!”

Saving Thomas from having to verbally admit yet _another_ defeat is a frantic pounding on the door. He lumbers upward and opens the door, nearly getting bowled over by a panicked teenage blonde who sights Lara over his shoulder.

“Lara Elizabeth!”

Lara has the temerity to look slightly remorseful. “I just wanted to –”

“– Give me a heart attack when I’m meant to be looking after you and studying for my exams?!”

“Sorry, Emmy.”

Emmy drops her head, tension clearly draining from her body. “You scared me half to death. When I couldn’t find you, I had to call Kara.”

Lara’s eyes grow wide. “But she’s gonna call _Mom_.”

“Sorry.” Emmy, for her part, does not sound sorry in the slightest. “Should have considered that before you disappeared for two and a half hours.”

Grant frowns. ( _Had it been two hours already_?) He never loses track of time like this.

Lara is growing visibly distressed. “But if Mom comes, she’ll take away my rocket and Trix and –”

“– Hey now.” Grant interjects calmly. “I’ll talk to your mom and see if we can’t just clear up the misunderstanding.”

Lara flashes him a grateful smile while Emmy remains unimpressed. “No offense, because you seem like really nice dudes but this is my cousin and for all we know you could _eat_ small children for breakfast and –”

“As a matter of fact, I don’t even _eat_ breakfast anymore because your cousin has a delicate nose and informed me that I smelled.” Thomas drawls, totally derailing the epic rant that Emmy had been gearing up for.

“Lara, you _didn’t_.” The blonde is horrified.

Thomas sees Lara’s thankful look and winks at her. “– So while these two champs had grilled cheese, the rest of us poor souls had to go without food entirely and –”

Lara shrugs. “We were hungry and he was making something anyway when Trix crashed.”

“She _crashed_?” Emmy wails, dragging her hands down her face. “That’s it. I’ll never be able to look after you again. They’re going to hire a sitter and I’ll be phased out and –”

“Not likely,” A cool, feminine voice cuts in.

“Kara.” Emmy breathes in relief, while Lara ducks her head behind Grant’s shoulder.

“… _Kara_?” Thomas delicately inquires, looking absolutely gobsmacked at the confident brunette in dark jeans and brown leather jacket.

“Save it, playboy.” Kara puts a hand on his chest, shoving him aside to freely make her way over to where Lara is trying to hide.

Grant clears his throat in an attempt to dispel the building tension between the woman in front of him and the girl currently trying to plaster herself against his back. “I’m sure we can figure this out as adults and –”

“Tell me you didn’t call Mom!” Lara’s plea is muffled slightly from where she is all but hidden from view behind him.

“No dice, Lara loo.” Kara folds her arms. “You gave your cousin a heart attack.”

“This is how it ends,” she mournfully says, slowly reappearing. “I’ll be grounded for the rest of my life and I’ll never get to see the outside world again and –”

“Excuse me.”

Someone pushes Thomas out of the way and he sarcastically steps aside. “By _all_ means, come _on in_.”

Standing just inside the doorway is a woman looking about ready to tear the room apart. “Does anyone care to discuss why I’m getting frantic messages about my daughter’s sudden disappearance and why there is absolutely _no one at my house_ or why everyone in charge _refuses to answer their damn phones_?”

Lara pops into view with a sheepish grin. “Hi, Mom.”

Grant leans sideways to peer at her more closely. “… _Skye_?”

Skye goes sheet white, eyes wide.

“Wait a second.” Thomas glances between his brother and the newest arrival. “You two _know_ each other?”

Even Kara looks thrown by the news. “Skye, what –”

And Skye literally _bolts_ from view.

The entire room goes silent until Lara perks up, looking considerably more cheerful. “I guess this means I’m not getting grounded.”

  


* * *

 

  


 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SOMEONE SAVE ME FROM MYSELF OKAY PLEASE IM BEGGING YOU. 
> 
> [tumblr](http://b-isforbombshell.tumblr.com).


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WOW OKAY WE ARE REALLY DOING THIS. GODSPEED TO US ALL.

 

Emmy and Kara clear out with Lara in tow almost immediately after Skye has fled the scene.

The teenager apologises profusely for the entire situation and Kara is mostly snarling at Thomas and his lame attempts to be seductive while Grant reassures an overtired and slightly hysterical Lara that everything will be okay. He promises her that she is welcome to come back anytime, as long as she has her mother’s permission and that seems to do the trick of drying up her tears.

(Given how rapidly the tears disappears, Grant privately wonders if she has the ability to cry on command but concludes that it’s a skill that is probably beyond her six years.)

In fact, Grant thinks the entire thing might just actually have a chance of blowing over until Thomas, on his way to bed calls, “Hey. Wasn’t Skye the name of that chick you banged years ago and then moped around forever?”

Grant just barely manages to keep from punching his brother in the face. “Shut up, Thomas.”

*

The next morning, the kitchen smells of freshly brewed coffee and there is a single light on over the bar counter. A familiar tiny brunette is hunched over, constructing something out of paperclips and thumbtacks.

“How,” Grant clears his throat, trying to figure out what exactly is going on, “Did you get here?”

“I drove.” Lara says simply, looking at him like he’s the one who lost his mind.

He chokes. “You _what_?”

She rolls her eyes. “I know you don’t believe me.” Lara flings her hand at the window, where there is still plastic taped up over the broken glass due to Trixie’s untimely crash. “I parked right next to you.”

_This_ he has to see.

Grant pads over to the front door and opens it, unable to keep his jaw from dropping slightly where, sure enough, Lara’s white mini Audi roadster is parked next to his black Range Rover. “I, uh…” He scratches the back of his neck, trying to formulate his thoughts in a way that won’t offend his tiny guest. “I stand corrected.” Then he takes a closer look. “Nice job.”

Lara shrugs, as if it is of no particular concern to her. “At least I didn’t ram over half the lawn like the doofus driving that big stupid truck.”

“Scarlett is a beautiful beast of a vehicle.” Quietly states Thomas, who has once again wandered into the kitchen at the sound of voices, and is not yet fully awake to form a proper retort. “Someone give me coffee. _Please_.”

Lara sighs dramatically and slides over a large mug. “Maybe you need glasses.”

Thomas lifts pained eyes to his brother, who is manfully trying not to laugh.

“Lara,” Grant smothers another chuckle, “Maybe we should let Thomas wake up before we start throwing him under the bus.”

“There’s no bus,” she frowns. “And my Aunt Kara always says you should tell it like it is.”

“This is it,” Thomas whispers to his coffee. “This is how it ends for me. I die by persecution from a six year old.” 

The room is silent as Lara continues to make… whatever it is that she is making, and the Ward brothers drink their coffee in peace. Just before the clock turns 8 am, there is the loud sound of a schoolbus coming to a halt outside.

Lara grabs her backpack, sweeping the project inside and jumping down from the counter. “See you later!” She waves goodbye to the two men, who dumbly lift their hands in response more reflexive than anything.

Moments pass.

“Did she _make_ this coffee? Because it’s pretty good.”

“Actually…” Grant looks at the huge stack of large books piled up near the sink just high enough for someone Lara’s height to see and how the coffeemaker has been dragged precariously close to the edge of the counter. “I think she did.” 

“We’re keeping her,” Thomas fervently declares, going to pour himself another mug. “That’s some damn fine coffee.”

*

Later that afternoon, Grant comes home from work to find Thomas sacked out on the floor, fast asleep. Lara is actually sitting indian style on his back, playing Mario Kart as the other controller lays abandoned at her feet.

She glances up at him distractedly, taking another turn on two wheels. “He said he was the best.”

Grant lightly kicks his brother’s leg. Thomas barely moves.

“I guess I wore him out.” Her tongue is sticking out slightly as she navigates the waterfalls in Koopa Troopa Beach like a champ. Once the level is finally cleared, Lara sits back in satisfaction. “He took a bath when I came back from school because things got a little messy in the kitchen. If you wake him up in another ten minutes, he had a good two hour nap.”

“… _Thank_ you?”

She shrugs. “Figured I should probably watch him while we waited for you to come home.”

And this is his life. His brother is being minded by their six year old neighbor.

Grant puts away his notes from work and asks Lara to come sit at the counter while he starts to make dinner. “Lara.”

She looks up from her drawings. “Yeah?”

He bites his lip, trying to get the phrasing correct of what he wants to ask. “Not that I mind at all, but… Do your parents know you’ve been spending your time here?”

Lara determindly does not meet his eyes any longer, preferring to keep her focus on whatever she’s drawing. “Mom knows I’m somewhere safe. That’s good enough.”

“And your dad?”

The crayon snaps in half in her hand. She swallows carefully and selects another color with extreme prejudice.

“Lara?”

She sets the crayon down with a snap that breaks that one too. “I don’t _have_ a dad, _okay_? Is that what you wanted to know?”

He finds himself without words.

She scowls at him fiercely and hops down from the stool. On her way out the door, she snags a throw from the couch and tosses it in Thomas’s general direction. It lands haphazardly, covering half of his body.

Lara doesn’t say goodbye as she slams the door loud enough to rattle the remaining glass panes in the front window.

Thomas blearily lifts his head. “What’s ‘appening?”

“Hurricane Lara,” Grant replies, his gaze still fixed on the closed door.

He groans, rolling to his side. “That little hurricane _murdered_ me in Mario Kart. It’ll take _weeks_ to get my name back on the board.” When Grant doesn’t reply, Thomas sits up, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. “Bro. You look worried.”

“She doesn’t have a dad.”

“O… _kay?”_

“It’s just…” Grant shakes off the weird sense of melancholy he feels and returns his attention to fixing dinner. “Forget it. It’s nothing.”

Thomas frowns. “You’re not going to get weird about this, right?”

“Why would I get weird about this?”

“Because you –”

“I mean, what kind of _jackass_ would leave Skye behind and abandon their own daughter?”

“– are clearly going to get weird about this.” Thomas concludes to himself. He straddles one of the kitchen chairs and watches as his normally self-contained brother goes off on a rant for the ages.

“That woman is _incredible_. She’s clearly done a great job raising her kid – did you know that Lara’s manners are actually above average for a six year old in today’s society?”

“I think the more important question here is: how do _you_ know that?”

“And honestly, I would give anything to have a family like that and –”

“– So now we reach the crux of the matter.” Thomas stands up, giving his brother a fond look. “Your biological clock is ticking.”

Grant is silent for a good ten seconds before the fight goes out of him. He slowly cracks a smile. “Jackass.”

The younger man lifts his eyebrows pointedly. “You’re the one going off full throttle about our neighbors. I’m just saying. It’s a little weird.”

“She’s a _good_ person, Thomas.”

“So good she ran like hell when she saw you for the first time in years?” Thomas is transparently skeptical.

“You don’t know what her life was like. She had a lot going on back then.”

“Uh, not to be the bearer of bad news or anything… but she kind of has a lot going on right _now_.” When Grant shoots him a glare, Thomas hastily continues, “Daughter who runs away a lot, mom who works all the time and doesn’t _ever_ appear to be home; family support system that includes a hot as hell aunt wound a little too tightly –”

“– _Thomas_.”

“– I’m just saying that Kara is a _babe.”_

“Thanks.” Kara’s dryly amused voice floats in from the doorway.

Thomas closes his eyes in defeat. “Is every woman in your household looking to actively humiliate me?”

“Not sure. But,” She pats his cheek briskly, “You take it rather well. Kudos.”

A lecherous smile forms on his face. “You know what _else_ I take well…”

Kara shoves him backward into the chair and focuses her attention on Grant. “I wanted to say thanks for looking after my niece the past two days. This has been a particularly rough couple of months for her.” Kara inhales deeply, as if bracing to reveal something big. "Lara likes you.”

“I don’t think she likes me too much right now,” Grant ruefully admits.

Kara’s gaze sharpens. “Why?”

“I asked her about her dad.”

The mood in the kitchen changes abruptly and the easy camaraderie fades away. Kara looks tense, though Grant or Thomas can’t really fathom why.

“She doesn’t like to talk about it.” She finally grits out, looking irritated for some reason.

“Lara doesn’t?” Grant pauses.  “…Or Skye doesn’t?”

“Yes.” Kara answers, refusing to clarify as she heads for the door. “Let me know if she keeps sneaking in early morning and I’ll try to give you some kind of heads up when she’s on her way.”

When Thomas moves to open the door for her, she shoots him a withering look that he returns with a grin and matching finger guns.

“Idiot.” Kara rolls her eyes, taking care to slam the door on her way out.

Two more panes of glass fall from the main window and shatter.

Grant closes his eyes in defeat.

“We should probably get that fixed.” Thomas muses aloud, stepping around the broken glass. “On the plus side, I really think Kara’s warming up to me, don’t you?”

*

(our girl after she _trounced_ Thomas in Mario Kart.)

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> to those of you who are curious about whether or not the lara au will continue: _yes_. i promise it will. i am still fully committed to it and i have every intention of finishing it. but given how RL has been kicking me while i'm down, the headspace for the last chapter of the lara au is not one i can comfortably be in right now. instead you'll have to make do with this fluff. 
> 
> (seriously folks, enjoy it. we all know it's a real departure from my normal mo.)
> 
> thanks for coming along for the ride, y'all.
> 
> xo.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi hello yes. RL is kicking my BUTT and i am having major work dramarama right now (would appreciate all of the warm and fuzzy thoughts because tomorrow morning around 9, i am supposed to have my review and THINGS COULD BE CHANGING if the universe would give me a WIN for once BUT ANYWAY) so this is shorter than i would have liked, but apparently this fic is shaping up to be longer than i'd originally intended. 
> 
> what have i done. what have you guys done to me.

 

It’s almost midnight and Skye is regretting all of her life choices – but mostly the one that included _killing_ a bottle of vodka with Kara the night after she’d fled the scene at Grant Ward’s house.

“I’m telling you, I planned to _never_ lay eyes on him again.”

Kara sighs, glancing at the half-closed bedroom door behind which their resident hurricane sleeps. “And I’m saying I _believe_ you, but here’s the facts: The man you had the best one night stand of your _life_ with? He happens to be our next door _neighbor_.”

There is long silence that has Skye reaching for the bottle and completely bypassing her shot glass altogether.

“He also happens to look a _lot_ like –”

Skye immediately starts choking. “– _Keep_ your voice down!” She hisses after recovering, darting a look at Lara’s bedroom.

Kara rolls her eyes. “Honestly you need to start planning how you’re going to tell him.”

“There’s _nothing_ to tell.”

“Right.” The other woman raises a eyebrow. “And I’m secretly lusting after his stupid playboy brother.”

Skye’s gaze narrows. “I think you are, actually.”

She scoffs. “Dream on.”

“As your friend let me tell you, if he’s anything like his older brother… the sex is totally worth it.”

This time Kara is the one who begins choking.

With an extremely satisfied smile at having regained the upper hand, Skye continues. “I’m flying out to California tomorrow to tie up some loose ends at work.”

Kara tips back the last of her shot with a knowing glance. “You mean you’re running again.”

“Kara,” She trails off warningly.

“Just calling it like I see it, _friend_.”

“Emmy has an insane course load over the next couple weeks so she may not be around as much.”

“I’ll be here,” Kara shrugs, unconcerned.

“And see if Lara can…”

“ _Yes_?”

Skye realises how ridiculous of a request it is as she begins to make it but doesn’t know how else to say it. “Stay away from our… neighbors.”

“You want her to stay away from her fa –”

This time, Skye is lunging across the couch and tackling Kara to the ground to keep her silent. There is a series of loud thuds and the two women freeze, hoping that Lara hasn’t been woken up by the commotion.

While Kara rests comfortably sprawled beneath Skye, an elbow jabbed reflexively against her ribs, she muses, “How much do you think the Ward brothers would pay to watch this right now?”

Skye, thankfully, has the presence of mind to roll sideways before she collapses into laughter.

*

Lara is sitting in her usual spot at the counter when Grant comes into the kitchen the next morning. He blinks at her owlishly until she takes pity on him and finally slides over a mug of coffee.

“You didn’t plug my car in last night. Now it’s dead because it didn’t charge.”

The caffeine hits his system in a gratifying rush. “I’m… _sorry_?”

“You should be.” The heaviness in her expression makes it seem like this is about more than just forgetting to charge her roadster overnight.

He is abruptly reminded of the way she stormed out yesterday after he’d stuck his foot in his mouth and Grant tries to apologise further. “Lara, about what happened –”

“I want to go to the park.”

“– And I want your beautiful aunt to give me more than just a passing glance, but we can’t always get what we want,” Thomas grumbles as he plods into the kitchen, squinting at the bright lights.

Lara sniffs at him in disdain. “She thinks you have weird hair.”

“What?!” Thomas is suddenly wide awake.

She shrugs. “You do. It’s all floofy and looks like you put a lot of that wax stuff in it.”

“That’s _pomade_ to you, hurricane,” Thomas scowls, reaching for his coffee. “And my hair is not… _floofy_.”

“It kind of is,” Grant mildly remarks from behind his mug.

Lara beams.

“Traitor.” Thomas doesn’t even bother with more than a dark look aimed at both of them before returning his sole focus to his coffee. Every so often, he checks his reflection in the toaster and tries to comb his hair into something _better_.

“So, the park.” Grant prompts, drawing Lara’s attention away from the tracing she’s attempting of her own fingers. He gently pulls the blue crayon away from her and raises his eyebrows to ask permission so that he can take over.

Lara huffs her agreement, grabbing a new piece of paper and splaying her fingers out wide on top of it. “Yes. We have to go. Today would be best.”

“I can probably be home once you get back from school and we can go after that, if it’s okay with your mom.”

“It’s okay,” she hurriedly agrees.

“ _Lara_.” This time his voice is unusually serious, and has the effect of both Thomas and the little girl sitting up at attention. “I’m not going to step on anyone’s toes here. You need to check with your mom first.”

“Why would you step on her toes? Are you dancing?” Lara is confused.

“Not horizontally.” Thomas mumbles, hiding a smirk behind his coffee mug and ducking his head when Grant shoots him a dirty look.

“I just mean that it’s not polite to step in and take over if you have a set…” He pauses, trying to find the right words to explain to the tiny girl seated before him without confusing her any further, “…schedule of things that you do with your mom.” 

“Oh.” Lara is silent for a few minutes while she thinks this over.

Grant thinks he’s out of the woods until she suddenly starts digging through her bag with _purpose_ ; folders and papers winging all over the counter and one of them nearly poking Thomas in the eye.

Finally she withdraws some kind of form and presents it to Grant with a flourish. “Like this!”

He scans the paper over. “This is a permission slip for you to go on a field trip next week.”

“But my mom _signed_ it.” Lara is practically bouncing in her seat with excitement. “So if she signs _us_ a permission slip, _we_ can go to the park!”

“I…”

Thomas clears his throat. “She’s got you there, bro.”

The bus pulls up outside and Lara flies into motion collecting all her belongings again. Grant helps her tug on the backpack and opens the door for her to run outside.

“I’ll get us permission!” Lara yells over her shoulder, flashing him a peace sign. “Charge the car!”

Grant is still trying to make sense of the tiny hurricane that has just blown through his morning when Thomas pushes over a lone paper that hadn’t made it back inside Lara’s bag. “Looks like you’ll finally have an excuse to flirt with our new neighbor after all.”

It’s a timetable for Lara’s parent-teacher conferences this Friday. Skye will definitely need this prior to attending.

“Although can it really be considered flirting if you’ve already seen her naked and had her six ways to Sunday?” Thomas taps his chin contemplatively.

Grant’s low growl is all the warning Thomas has to flee the kitchen at top speed or die with little else but a few badly traced hands courtesy of Lara as witnesses.

*

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WELP.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NEVER GOING TO LIVE.

Skye hasn’t touched down in LAX for more than three minutes when her phone starts ringing. 

It’s an unknown number with an East Coast area code. Probably the school, calling her to report some wild shenanigans that her hurricane of a daughter has unleashed upon them all.

“Lara Elizabeth. What on earth have you gotten yourself into now?”

These are the times she wishes she had a partner in raising Lara. There’s no question that she’s the best thing in her life, but good lord does she keep her on her toes _all the freaking time_. 

Skye lets the call go to voicemail as they taxi to the gate and frowns when a message isn’t left. Her history log shows that she’s missed another call from this number while she was in the air. 

Regretting the decision but seeing no other choice, she sends a text message to her daughter. (And _yes_ , she knows how insane it is that her six year old daughter can text. But this seems like it could be a potential emergency and she needs to know what she’s about to send Kara into war for.)

[ _hi sweetheart! just landed in california, sorry i didn’t wake you up to say goodbye before i left. everything okay?_ ]

[ **HI MOMMY HELLO HIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII EVERYTH I NG IS FIN** ]

[ _what’s going on at home?_ ]

[ **CAN I GO 2 PARK AFTR SKOOL ?????????????????????** ]

Skye has seen the local park and it’s well maintained, with newer playground equipiment and the kind of swings she is tempted to hop on herself one of these days. She feels a pang that she can’t take Lara there herself and suddenly wishes she was back home with her daughter. 

[ _of course. be safe, have fun._ ]

[ **THX MOMMY I LUVVVVVVVVV UUUUUUU :D** ]

She fires off a quick message to Kara. [ i _’m fine with lara going to the park today_. ]

Kara’s response is fast. [ _okay sounds good_. ]

Skye studies the unknown number again and frowns. It’s probably just a telemarketer. Time to get to work so she can hurry up and get home to her baby.

*

The park is not as packed as he had thought it would be at this hour. 

After Lara had come _flying_ in the door at top speed with a brilliant grin and the loud declaration that she had gotten permission from her mom that they could go to the park, Grant had the presence of mind to use the number Kara had given him last time she stopped by. 

[ _so it’s cool that lara and i go to the park? skye is okay with it?_ ]

There is a good five minutes before she responds. [ _…yes_. ]

Something about the tone had seemed off somehow, but Grant had tried calling Skye directly earlier that morning to tell her about the parent teacher conferences and she hadn’t answered. He doesn’t want to keep bothering her if she’s tied up with work, so before he can think better of it, he grabs the keys and tells Lara that they’re headed to the park. 

She’s been on the monkey bars for a solid ten minutes (and giving him a heart attack every time her hand seems to lose its grip, however briefly) when he is joined by a thin blonde mom in workout gear. 

“Your little girl is so adventurous!” 

“Oh, she’s not…” He stumbles over his words. “I’m not her father.” 

The perky woman gives him a _very_ thorough once over. “Are you sure? Because she’s the spitting image of you, right down to those cheekbones of yours.” When she reaches as if to touch said cheekbones for herself, Grant can barely keep from recoiling in alarm. 

Thankfully, Lara comes racing over and interrupts the moment. “I have _conquered_ the playground I have made it my bi –”

Grant claps a hand over her mouth and coughs. 

The blonde raises her eyebrows pointedly. “Seems like we’ve got a bit of a language issues to work on. You really should nip that in the bud before it’s too late.”

Lara’s eyes narrow and she bites his hand until he drops it with a hissed, “ _Lara_!”

“We should go,” she tells him, dismissing the other woman with a withering glance that is disturbingly effective for a six year old. “Mommy is waiting for us.”

The woman gasps. “You _just_ said she wasn’t your daughter. I don’t appreciate being lied to.” 

He can practically see the wheels turning in her head when as tiny smile curls at the corner of Lara’s mouth and she tugs on his hand. “C’mon, _Daddy_. Let’s _goooooo_.”

As Grant chokes and struggles to recover, the woman glares at him. “If you didn’t want to talk, you should have just _said so_.” 

The offended tone to shocks him into action. “ _Lara_. Tell her I am not your father.”

“But Daddy you always say I shouldn’t lie.” She shakes her head solemnly. “Mommy is going to be so upset with you.” 

“Oh my god.” Grant drags a hand down his face in frustration. He turns to the woman and tries to appease her. “Look, this is kind of a complicated situation and –”

She stomps away with a disgusted sniff and dirty look aimed in his direction. 

Lara barely holds onto her composure until the woman is out of sight and then bursts into giggles. 

“Oh you think that’s funny, do you?” Grant asks sourly, wondering why the idea of being thought of as her father isn’t ringing alarm bells like it should. 

Still laughing, Lara nods vigorously. “She was too bony and she wanted to touch you. I didn’t like her _at all_.”

Well, she’s not wrong.

“Truth be told…” He sighs. “I didn’t like her, either.”

Reassured as always by their common view, Lara considers the matter closed and changes the subject happily. “But did you see? Did you _see_ me!!” She’s practically vibrating with excitement. “I made it all the way across the bars! Thomas is right! I’m getting _ripped_!”

Grant closes his eyes. “Have you been… _working_ _out_ with Thomas?”

“Yes!” Lara curls her arm and makes a muscle that is surprisingly impressive for her tiny frame. “He says it helps him work through his frustration.” Then she frowns. “With Kara.”

“Sweet lord,” he mutters. 

“How can he be frustrated with Kara if he never sees her though?” Lara sounds extremely put out by this conclusion. “Maybe I should make sure they see each other.” 

“No!” 

Her eyes grow wide as saucers at his loud protest. 

Visions of the stories Kara and Thomas could tell about the fallout of his one-night stand with Skye fly through his mind. 

“No, it’s probably best if they don’t see each other for a while.” And then Grant does something he’s truly not proud of. He tells a small fib. “Thomas hasn’t been feeling well, and I don’t want Kara to catch whatever he has.” 

Lara snorts, absently slipping her hand into his and skipping her way to the car. “You don’t need to worry about that. Kara already refused to swap cooties with him.” 

He wonders how this became his life. 

*

When they arrive back home, Thomas has made dinner. It’s nothing fancy, just grilled cheese and some sliced carrots, but Lara is in heaven. 

Thomas looked particularly pleased with himself at her shout of delight and the two of them had been whispering in cahoots ever since they’d finished eating. 

It’s making Grant incredibly uneasy.

“And _then_ she tried to touch his face,” Lara is practically in Thomas’s lap, putting her hands on both of his cheeks with her nose alarmingly close to his in demonstration. “So I had to take drastic measures.” 

Thomas practically has tears leaking from his eyes, he is laughing so hard. “I can’t believe my smooth older brother almost got molested by a soccer mom.” 

Lara frowns at the unfamiliar term. “What’s _mole infested_?”

Thomas laughs _harder_ , this time actually falling sideways on the couch and taking Lara down with him. She giggles madly and is still laughing hysterically when Kara walks in, eyebrows raised high. 

“They’ve been like this all day,” Grant tells her with a sigh, coming around the corner with a beer in his hand. “I honestly don’t know when they turned this corner in their friendship but it’s got me slightly terrified.” 

“It should,” Kara grimly responds, taking in the scene. “She hardly needs a partner in crime for her scheming these days.”

“Godspeed to us.” He offers the beer to her. 

“Ain’t that the truth.” Kara agrees, knocking back half the bottle’s contents as if bracing for battle. “How was the park?”

Grant exhales loudly. “Eventful.” 

Something about Kara’s amused smile makes him wonder if she knows exactly what had happened earlier. Before he can ask, she sets her beer down and goes over to join the fray that is Thomas and Lara still laughing – and by now, they have actually migrated to the floor. 

Thomas has Lara clutched safely to his chest when he glances up at her. “Hey there, Legs.” 

Kara, who is wearing dark skinny jeans that do, indeed, make her legs look fantastic, and a loose white tank, barely holds back a grin. “Hey, playboy. Mind giving me back my niece?”

“That depends.” He shares a conspiritorial glance with Lara, who nods excitedly before burying her face in his neck with a tiny giggle. “Will you let me take you out for dinner tomorrow night?”

“Using my own family as incentive – bold move.” Kara’s voice is dry but amused. “C’mon, Lara.”

She peers up at her aunt innocently. “It’s not nice to refuse a meal.” 

“Lord knows we don’t exactly turn them down in our household,” Kara mutters, holding her hand out for Lara. The little girl stubbornly refuses to latch on until Kara finally agrees. “Okay, _yes_. Dinner. Tomorrow.”

He lets his arm drop so that Lara can move unencumbered. “I owe you one,” Thomas gratefully whispers, loudly enough for Kara to overhear and roll her eyes. 

“Don’t worry,” Lara scrambles to her feet, and closing both eyes in an attempt to wink stealthily. “I’ll think of something.” 

He grows slightly alarmed. “Wait, Lara –” 

“Bye you guys!!” Lara cheerfully skips to the door, blowing Grant a kiss as she goes. “Thanks for the fun today!” 

Kara tugs the door closed behind them, but not without a parting look to Grant. “You’d better charge that car if you know what’s good for you.” 

Grant swears and follows them out so that he can do just that. 

And Thomas? 

Thomas closes his eyes in satisfaction. “Is it wrong to send a six year old a fruit basket? Maybe a cookie arrangement is a safer bet. …Does she like chocolate?” 

*

  


 


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> things are still pretty rough, guys. 
> 
> thanks for hanging in there with me.

*

“What about this one?”

“No.”

“But it’s got a stripe and –”

“– No.”

“There’s also –”

“No.”

“You’re killing me.” Thomas flops back onto the bed dramatically, the movement of which has Lara – who has been sitting indian style against all the pillow in the _entire house_ – flung upwards into the air before settling back down with a pleased grin.

“Do that again.” She orders gleefully, and Thomas gamely gets to his feet and then throws himself back down on the bed.

This time, Lara uses the momentum to bounce off the bed (much to his dismay) and lands by the closet. She literally _dives_ inside and disappears from view.

“Uh, Lara?” He sits up with some alarm. “Knew I should have done spring cleaning this year… ” She has been gone for almost thirty seconds now. “I’m never going to be able to tell Skye I lost her daughter…”

“Got it!” Lara shouts triumphantly, a bundle of clothing crumpled in her hand. She painstakingly flattens out the items on the bed, and they resolve to be a pair of dark rinse jeans and [a novelty tee shirt](http://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fcdn-images.threadless.com%2Fthreadless-shop%2Fproducts%2F6168%2F1272x920shirt_guys_02.jpg%3Fw%3D1272%26h%3D920&t=YzI4NmY5NDQ4ZDk4YTM4OTEwMzIyOTViNzc3NmY0MWNkM2M2ODE2MCxubjVOSmZiMQ%3D%3D) that Thomas is fairly certain he purchased one night when he was drunk.

He gulps. “You’re sure about this.”

She nods firmly, cannonballing herself back onto the bed and kicking at him to get dressed. “She will love it _so muuuuuuuuuuuch_! Also you can wear that leather jacket too with your butt kicker boots.”

“…Butt kicker boots?”

Lara sighs in a particularly drawn out fashion, jumping off the bed and running out of the room.

He hears Grant yelp in surprise (she must have darted around a corner too quickly) and then she’s back, struggling under the weight of his beat up brown leather boots. They are, indeed, butt kickers.

Thomas strips off his henley and pulls on the tee. It feels like it shrunk a little in the dryer last time (or maybe he’s been hitting the gym more than he realises.) It is snug across his chest in a way it definitely wasn’t the last time he wore it. (Then again, when _was_ the last time he wore it?)

He raises an eyebrow when Lara blinks at him expectantly, waiting for the bottom half of his clothing swap. “Nice try, hurricane. Go bother Grant for some cookies. I don’t need you to sign off on my underwear choices.”

“FINE. But Mom has to sign off on _mine_ ,” she grumbles, leaving the room.

*

“Okay, let’s run through it one more time,” Grant tilts his head down to so that he can look Lara clearly in the eyes. “The plan for tonight is…”

“First,” She stands up on the bar stool for emphasis. “Aunt Kara comes to pick Thomas up for their date.”

“I’m taking _her_ out!” Thomas can be heard distantly yelling.

Grant and Lara exchange a _look_.

She rolls her eyes, ticking off the rest of the agenda on her fingers. “Emmy comes here to study while I make sure she doesn’t overheat or turn into a cauliflower.”

He frowns. “I think you mean a vegetable.”

“That’s what I _said_.” Lara pauses mid-diatribe to fold her arms at him with a stubborn glare. “Didn’t your mom make you eat it?”

“It’s albino broccoli,” Thomas offers as he sails into the kitchen, arms spread wide in an appeal for her approval. “Well?”

“Yes.” She nods. “What’s albino?”

“ _Lara_.” Grant clears his throat, trying to get her attention again.

She sighs so loudly the bar stool begins to wobble under her feet. Thomas casually slips a hand at the base, providing some much needed stability, under the guise of practicing his _lean_.

“ _Then_ , you go to school and find my mom and tell all my teachers that I’m the best.”

Grant has to press his lips together firmly to keep a straight face, nodding jerkily.

Thomas, however, is not so composed, and guffaws loudly. He waves them off. “ ‘s fine.”

There is a knock at the door.

“To be continued,” Grant points at her, going to let the visitors in.

“Thanks for letting me study here,” Emmy hefts a rather large bag into the room, eyes brightening at the sight of her cousin. “Lara, are you sure you should be on the –”

“Silence!” Lara commands, throwing her hand up. “We’re going over the plan.”

“By all means,” Emmy gestures widely, “Do continue.”

“Next,” Lara turns carefully on the stool, taking in the rest of the room at large. “You bring Mommy home and put her to bed.”

Grant begins choking.

Kara – who had been trying in earnest to get a good look at the novelty tee that Thomas was wearing – loses her footing and actually trips into his waiting arms, much to Thomas’s eternal delight.

“He _llo_ ,” he purrs, shifting the hair out of her face. “Fancy meeting you here.”

“I can poison your drink,” Kara hisses, struggling to regain her footing – a feat proving near impossible as Thomas is content to hold her with just enough clearance off the ground that she can’t touch down.

“Lara,” Emmy pipes up, taking pity on the white panicked look on Grant’s face. “What relevance does that particular part of the plan have, exactly?”

Well used to the extensive vocabulary of her genius cousin, Lara doesn’t even bat at eye at her question. “If he tucks her in, maybe she’ll actually _stay here_ for a little while instead of flying off for stupid _work_ all the STUPID TIME.”

She glares harshly at everyone, as if furious with them for not recognising the issue at hand, and drops down from her perch with an ease that suggests the move is more habit than natural coordination. Then she runs from the room.

A door slams loudly.

Thomas gapes at the hurricane wreckage and dazedly sets Kara back on her feet.

“I should go check on her,” Kara sighs, exchanging a look with Emmy. The teen offers a sad shrug and moves as if to join her.

“I’ll go,” Grant says, nodding at her and Thomas. “You guys get out of here.”

Kara looks like she’s about to protest and then a loud crash can be heard echoing through the house. “On second thought,” she heads for the door, not bothering to check if Thomas is trailing behind her, “She’s all yours.”

Thomas offers a two fingered salute and slings his arm around her shoulders as they head to his truck. “I couldn’t help but notice you were trying to sneak a peek at my shirt…”

“More like wondering how on earth you could draw _breath_ with that thing on,” Kara snickers, “could you have _painted_ it on any tighter?”

“I have it on pretty good authority that I made the right wardrobe decision this evening and I won’t stand by and let you question my judgment.”

Kara waits until he’s hopped in beside her to look at him quite seriously. “Stud. Your judgement is _nothing_ but questionable.”

“Babe.”  Thomas grins (and she thinks it’s ridiculously unfair that he should have that kind of power in his arsenal when he’s clearly got enough self esteem to power a trip to the moon and back). “You’re about to find out.”

*

When Grant enters his bedroom to dead silence, he knows something isn’t right. “Lara?”

“Over here,” comes her muffled reply.

He follows the sound of her voice to discover her buried underneath all of the blankets piled on top of the bed. Lara’s eyes are the only visible part of her body.

He’s not really sure what the protocol is for a situation like this and wishes, for the thousandth time, that Skye would have just answered her phone when he called her earlier.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Lara announces, rolling over and presenting him with her back.

Grant sighs quietly, and rubs between her shoulders until he feels her relax slowly. “Guess it kind of sucks when your mom isn’t around as much as she wants to be.”

“What do you know about it? Bet _your_ mom was around all the time.”

“She was,” he winces, thankful that she can’t see the dark look on his face, “but she wasn’t happy and fun like your mom is.”

Curiosity awakened, Lara rolls back over. “My mom is the best. I just wish she didn’t have to work so much.”

“That’s fair.” When she just stares at him, he offers a goofy look in response until she finally giggles. “Lara, I think you should talk to your mom about this. I bet if she knew how sad it makes you –”

“NO.”

At the vehemence of her reply, Grant’s eyebrows shoot up.

Lara shakes her head firmly. “She thinks I don’t know but sometimes she talks to Aunt Kara late at night and I hear her talk about how hard it is since I don’t have a…” She swallows heavily and barrels onward, “So she works a lot because she’s afraid I’m going to miss out on stuff.”

He is _so_ woefully ill-equipped to have this conversation.

Grant sits heavily on the edge of the bed, causing Lara to roll towards him. He puts a gentle hand on her shoulder, giving a reassuring squeeze. “I know your mom and I also know that she has the biggest heart of anyone I’ve ever met. So I’m not saying you _have_ to talk to her,” he puts a finger up when Lara opens her mouth to protest, “I’m just saying that if you _did_ , I know she’d listen.”

“Can’t _you_ just talk to her?” She whines, flopping across his lap _._

“No.” Grant firmly replies. “But I will be here to talk to you after you’ve finished.”

She curls her lip and grumbles. “I hope you have nothing but albino broccoli for dinner for a week.”

“…I kind of like cauliflower.”

“You _would_ ,” Lara groans, dragging herself out to the hallway, where Emmy is very obviously trying not to listen to their conversation.

“Everything is sorted out, then?” The blonde smiles brightly, looking to Grant for reassurance.

“Kind of,” he offers, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Well. That’s all we can hope for.” She dusts her hands briskly. “Also, you’re going to be late to the conferences if you don’t leave in the next ten minutes.”

Eyes wide, Grant dives back into his room and slams the door so that he can get ready to leave.

Lara rolls her eyes. “Should have let me at least pick out his shirt. Probably won’t even match now.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and _boom_ goes the dynamite.

 

*

Skye is about two seconds away from a full blown meltdown.

There had been a problem at the airport, her flight had gotten in late, which threw off the driver who had been scheduled to pick her up, which meant that she was _beyond_ late once she had finally gotten back to town and couldn’t stop home to change on the way – and to cap it off, Trip had been _pissed_ with her for not making time to meet his new girlfriend.

 

“ _It’s not like you’re in California all the time, girl! C’mon!!”_

_“Trip, I know, okay – I_ **know** _. I’m trying to cram three days of work into one so that I can get home sooner and spend the weekend with Lara because I feel like I haven’t seen her since we moved into the new place and –”_ _her voice broke with emotion.  
_

_“It’s lucky for you I love my niece more than life itself, because if you were blowing me off for **anyone** else –”  
_

_“I’m sorry_.” _Skye rested her head on the window. “I feel like an ass.”  
_

_“Stop fishin’ for compliments, you know yours is **fine**.” Trip sighed heavily. “I think she’s the one, Skye.”  
_

“ _…Wow. That’s… **wow**.”_

_“It would mean a lot to me if you could meet her.”  
_

_“Promise I will make it my next priority. Tell her I’m looking forward to it.”_

_A loud blare of the neighbor’s horn drowned out Trip’s voice. “ – will be happy to hear that. We’ll talk soon. Fly safe, baby girl.”_

Frantically looking for a space in the overly packed school parking lot, Skye takes a second and tries to reconcile the mixed feelings she has about Trip’s new relationship and his mystery lady.

Obviously she is thrilled for him – he’s the closest thing she has to a brother – though she can’t help but feel separated by this new change in his life; he’s moving forward and forging a new path with the woman he loves and she…

She looks down at her phone and curses viciously.

She is now officially _beyond_ late for Lara’s first set of conferences.

*

“Hi,” Skye breathlessly states, garnering the attention of the two moms stationed at the registration table. “Skye Johnson. I’m Lara’s mother. I’m here to pick up the schedule for the rest of her teachers.”

The shorter of the two moms, with a nametag that reads _hi, I’m Beth!_ gives her a warm, but slightly confused smile. “Her father already picked up the schedule about twenty minutes ago, but I can print you out an additional copy so you can meet up.”

Skye goes utterly still. “Her… _father_?”

It’s like the ground just disappeared beneath her feet.

Beth grins. “Cheekbones so well defined, it makes the ancient Greek sculptors _weep_? Tall, dark, and handsome… ringing any bells?”

“Goes by the first name of ‘Grant,’ ” the other mom chimes in helpfully.

She sees _red_. “…Grant.”

Beth and her companion smile cheerfully, glad that Skye is finally on their wavelength. “Here’s the schedule. You should be able to pick him up in the art room.”

“I’ll be sure to do that,” Skye vows darkly, smiling through her clenched teeth.

*

Grant makes it to the school with minutes to spare.

It’s the latest he’s ever been for something in _years_. He _hates_ being late.

But seeing the pictures that Lara has been finger-painting for the tonight, with the stick figure that is so clearly him, standing next to her while they are at the park?

That makes it all worth it.

He doesn’t need a degree in child psychology to know that he’s having an impact on her life (and hasn’t she been making an impact on his, without him even realising it?) and the bohemian-looking art teacher _beaming_ at him, just reinforces that feeling.

“Lara has really _blossomed_ the past few weeks in class. Before we would struggle to get her to express her creativity in any form, and now she’s painting and drawing pictures all the time.”

“I’m… glad to hear it,” he is slow to respond, trying to figure out the best way to formulate his thoughts. “I’m probably biased, but I happen to think Lara is an exceptional kid who deserves the world.”

“No more biased than any good father should be,” the teacher indulgently responds.

“Well,” he coughs awkwardly, “I’m not really her –”

He’s cut off by the loud _BANG!_ of the door to the classroom crashing open.

Skye is standing in the doorway, twin streaks of fury on her cheeks, fairly shaking with anger. 

Grant pushes back from the table quickly. “I can explain.”

“You can… _explain_?” She repeats with deadly patience.

“Ms. Johnson!” The art teacher gestures widely, “Come in, come in! I was just telling Lara’s father how much progress she’s been making. Just look at these!” She shoves the paintings into Skye’s shaking hands.

He can’t help the quick stab of sympathy that curls through him when Skye’s gaze catches on where Lara has painted her – off to the side, practically out of the picture completely. Like she was an afterthought.

“I know this looks bad, but –”

“ _Outside_ ,” Skye cuts him off, through gritted teeth. The artwork crumples slightly in her clenched fist, and when the teacher goes to gingerly remove them, Skye cuts her with a glare that stuns the other woman into retreat.

*

Grant is leaned against the tiny row of lockers outside the classroom when she shuts the door with a deliberate _click_.

“You have every right to be upset,” he immediately begins, raising his hands in surrender. “I tried to call and let you know what was going on and –”

She’s beyond reason at this point.

“– And you just _had_ to take it upon yourself to _fix_ someone’s life, didn’t you?” Skye spits out venomously.

Grant lowers his arms in bewilderment, growing defensive. “What exactly is _that_ supposed to mean?”

“You can’t _stand_ when things aren’t done right. It _grates_ on you.” Skye folds her arms with a disgusted glare. “Probably told yourself you were doing me a _favor_ by showing up for Lara’s conferences –”

“For god’s sake, Skye, _someone_ had to be here!”

“It didn’t have to be _you_!”

An extremely harassed teacher sticks her head out of the nearest classroom. “Mr. Ward. Ms. Johnson. If you could _please_ keep your voices down!”

Grant scoffs loudly, ignoring the other woman. “– Do you despise me on principle or is there an actual _reason_ behind this hatred?”

“You’re taking _notes_ , for god’s sake.” Skye gestures angrily at the notebook folded into the crook of his arm. “Could you _be_ more of a kiss ass? Perfect Grant Ward, with his _perfect_ –”

“– Has it ever _occurred_ to you,” Grant’s voice drops dangerously low, “That I am here for _Lara_ because her _mother_ is flying all over the place and never seems to be home so I am _trying_ to provide –”

“– You don’t provide _ANYTHING_ for her! She’s not your _daughter!”_

“ ** _ENOUGH_**!” The school headmaster steps forward, physically putting himself between the two adults. “I don’t care _what_ you’re arguing over. It is _abundantly_ clear that Lara is important to _both_ of you and that you’re invested in her life as her parents.”

When Skye opens her mouth to protest the statement, the older man’s eyes flash a warning and she wisely remains silent. 

“That being said: you’re hereby _banned_ from school property until you can get this domestic squabble sorted out.”

Skye’s jaw drops open in shock. Grant actually has to put a hand against the bank of lockers to keep his footing.

“We –”

“Get _out_ of my school,” the man continues with forced pleasantries, “before I have security _escort_ you from the premises.”

*

“I can’t believe you took this away from me,” She hisses at him as they clear the front doors.

“Skye, I was only trying to _help_ ,” he offers wearily, the ramifications of their actions beginning to sink in.

“I don’t _need_ your help.”

Skye peels away from the school in a furious spin of wheels, leaving Grant staring after her taillights in shock.

_What the hell had just happened_?

*

She makes it home in record time and gets out from the car on legs, that she is horrified to discover, are shaky with adrenaline and frustration.

Skye brings a trembling hand to her lips in an effort to keep the sob in the back of her throat from breaking free.

She is trying _so hard_ to be there for Lara, and to be a good mother and friend, to provide for her family and just –

This entire situation is so screwed up.

With fumbling hands, she gets the key into the lock and stumbles into the house. It’s too quiet, even for Lara to be asleep. Distantly, she remembers that her daughter is staying with Emmy for the night due to the conferences and shamefully admits that she is probably a _terrible_ mother for being relieved in that moment.

She grabs the bottle of red wine Kara had left corked on the table and pours herself a big glass.

And sitting on her couch, in their new empty house, with no one to witness it – Skye breaks down into tears.

*

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WELP. ...don't hate me everyone!!
> 
> ...also. 
> 
> i've been strong-armed into potentially writing a prequel to this. aka the one night stand that led up to this entire thing. come yell at me on [tumblr](http://b-isforbombshell.tumblr.com) if you want that, too. (or, y'know. to talk about anything else.)


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> have an extra long chapter of the lara au au to make up for the fact that my writer's block has been the worst i've seen it in YEARS.

The problem with drinking your sorrows away, Skye decides, is that they are still there in the morning -- jumping up and down inside your brain before slowly leaking out your ears in agony.

“Augh.” She rolls gingerly to her side, nearly tumbling off the couch.

It takes her a few seconds before the night’s events come rushing back in technicolor and she groans. “I am a confidant, grown up woman with a beautiful daughter who loves me.”

Skye scrubs a hand down her face, trying to _will_ the brain cells back to life. She catches sight of Lara’s drawing where Grant is front and center, while she’s been drawn somewhere practically _out_ of the picture.

“Well. I _think_ she loves me,” Skye mutters sourly, getting to her feet.

It’s a bit of a dodgy morning, but she somehow manages to pour herself into the shower and wash away almost all of the self loathing she feels. Somewhere between lathering up her hair with shampoo and shaving her legs, she decides that something about the situation with Grant has to change, because he’s gotten _involved_ now and Grant Douglas Ward doesn’t just _remove himself_ from people’s lives when he feels he’s _needed_.

“Damn knight in shining armor complex.”

She can’t fathom the idea of looking more than halfway presentable, so she reaches for the softest shirt in her top drawer (she doesn’t even remember its origin story at this point, but is pretty sure it belonged to an ex boyfriend at one point) and a pair of cutoffs that are most likely Kara’s, given the amount of cheek coverage there is. (Which is to say: _none_.)

As soon as she has at least _ten_ more cups of coffee, she’s going to march over there and apologise.

...Honest.

*

Grant doesn’t know how he got roped into making pancakes this morning.

Emmy had run out the door with a brief but extremely heartfelt apology and shortly thereafter Lara had strolled in with a towel tied around her neck like a cape, demanding “All the silver dollars, sir.”

And this is his life.

“I wish my mommy could have some of these,” Lara appreciatively pushes the pancakes around the the sea of butter on her plate.

He winces, remembering last night’s events vividly. “I don’t think I’m your Mom’s favorite person right now.”

“Why?” Pancakes suddenly forgotten, Lara stares at him with her eyebrows drawn together in a scowl.

“We had got into a bit of a fight at your school.”

“Did you tell everyone I was the _best_?”

“Of course I did.”

“Well Mommy already knows _that_ , so you couldn’t have been arguing about me.” Lara frowns at him. “Unless you said something to hurt her feelings. But then you could just say you’re sorry.”

_Ah, the simple logic of a child._

As if the thought had not yet occurred to him, Grant nods slowly. “I will definitely do that.”

“And maybe get her some flowers. She likes them.”

“...Does she?”

“Yeah.” Crisis obviously averted, Lara happily goes back to her pancakes. “She only gets mad when someone really hurts her feelings because it makes her heart have cuts like the kind you get when you aren’t paying attention to what you’re making and you said a bad word once.” 

There is a brief silence.

“...You told me you didn’t _hear_ that,” Grant finally responds.

“But I did,” she confirms with a grin. “It was funny.”

“Lara...”

Lara is clearly finished with that portion of the conversation. “She likes bluebells.”

It’s probably indicative of his declining mental health that he’s taking advice from a six year old. He sighs.

“I’ll be back in twenty minutes. Don’t answer the door.”

“Sure thing,” Lara absently waves, dropping from the kitchen stool.

He watches her retrieve the cookbooks and begin stacking them appropriately high enough so that she can begin making coffee. “I must be losing my mind.”

*

Thomas smells the coffee first and comes stumbling into the kitchen with his eyes still closed.

“You should put on some pants,” Lara calls from where she is tucked into the corner of the sofa, coloring to her heart’s content.

He yelps in surprise, stumbling into the wall. “A little _warning_ , please?” He has both hands cupped protectively around the front of his dark gray boxer briefs.

“ _Same_ ,” she mutters, keeping her eyes low.

Heart still racing, Thomas digs through the basket of clean laundry on the armchair until he discovers a pair of pajama bottoms. He tugs them on, turning back for approval. “Happy now?” At her nod, he finally avails himself of the fresh coffee, humming in relief. “Thank god. Bless you, tiny small, the best maker of coffee in the land.”

Well pleased with this declaration, Lara tries to think of something she can offer in return. “Aunt Kara doesn’t like to wear pants.”

The statement is more effective in waking him up than a quad espresso.

Thomas can hardly contain his delight. “ _Really_?” It’s all he can do to keep from rubbing his hands together in glee.

Lara shrugs. “Why else would she walk around in shirts with her underwears on all the time? Pants are dumb.”

Sparing Thomas from a reply is the arrival of Kara herself, clad only in his tee shirt from last night, which just barely covers the curve of her ass. “Pants _are_ dumb,” he fervently agrees. “Very, very dumb.”

“Coffee,” Kara demands in a low growl.

“Anything for you, Legs.” He passes over his mug without protest, eyes darkening slightly as she drinks it without hesitation.

There’s a knock on the door.

Lara remains seated where she is, eyes intent on her coloring book. “Grant told me I couldn’t answer the door.”

The knocking persists.

Thomas makes no move to get up from where he is now sprawled on the floor by her feet. “You drank my coffee,” he tells Kara by way of explanation. “I need at least two cups before I’m fit for company.”

“ _Not_ what you said when we woke up this morning,” she hisses in response, just _barely_ sidestepping a very precious part of his anatomy.

Kara yanks the door open before the person can knock a third time.

It’s honestly a toss up as to who is more surprised at the moment -- Kara or Skye.

“Well.” Skye dryly responds. “I guess I know why _you_ didn’t come home last night.”

“Hi Mommy!” Lara calls cheerfully from inside the house.

“Hey baby girl,” Skye calls back, pinning her friend with a coolly judgmental look. “Anything you care to share with the class?”

“I don’t kiss and tell,” Thomas informs dryly, getting up from the floor and ambling over.

“Put a shirt on,” Skye helpfully suggests, folding her arms.

“I would, _but_ \--” he winces in mock apology and a grin so large it should be illegal, “-- She’s wearing it.”

Kara closes her eyes and exhales slowly in measured beats. Thomas slings an arm around her waist that she probably would have dislodged if he hadn’t anticipated the move already, and tosses her over his shoulder.

Skye has to move quickly to dodge Kara’s flailing legs.

“We’ll tell Grant you stopped by,” Thomas calls before disappearing into his bedroom and slamming the door.

“Let’s go, Lara loo.”

At the sound of her name, the little girl looks up. “But Mommy I can’t leave without telling Grant. He will get _worried_.”

The fact that her six year old is right does _nothing_ for her disposition at the moment.

“We’ll leave him a note,” Skye promises through gritted teeth. “Hand me one of those crayons and a fresh sheet of paper.”

Under Lara’s watchful eye, Skye thanks Grant for his hospitality (with a very small addendum curiously inquiring where her niece Emmy had gone) and closes the door firmly behind them.

“Time for you to set your room to rights,” She tells Lara, who predictably throws her hands up in the air and whines.

“I _haaaaaaaaaate_ cleaning my room.”

“Probably shouldn’t have let it get that bad, then.”

Skye watches as Lara is about to trudge away in disgust and calls after her. When Lara turns back expectantly, probably waiting for more punishment, Skye drops to her knees and opens her arms. Lara flies into them without missing a beat. “Missed you, peanut.”

“Love you, Mommy.”

“Love you too.” She gives her daughter a playful swat on the butt. “Now get moving.”

*

Saturday morning cleanup well under way (without any loud crashes or sounds to indicate that Lara was staging a mutiny -- it _had_ happened before), Skye allows herself a third cup of coffee. She’s sipping it and enjoying the relative peace when someone knocks on the door.

“Of course. Because heaven forbid I have more than _five minutes_ of silence.” She gets to her feet and yanks the door open, fully prepared to confront Kara about the last 12 hours.

“I got your note.” Grant Ward is standing on her doorstep with a sheepish expression and a bunch of badly wrapped stems. “Emmy went home early this morning. Said she had an exam.”

“Yeah she’s studying for her SATs,” Skye distractedly confirms. “Are those... for me?” She can’t take her eyes off the vibrant flowers clutched in his hand.

Grant awkwardly thrusts the bluebells toward her. “Heard they were your favorite.”

The argument she has prepared about the irresponsibility of leaving her daughter with their two friends (who apparently can’t keep their hands off each other) dies on her tongue. It’s been _years_ since anyone got her flowers.

“Thanks.” She takes them and begins hunting down a vase.

Grant takes this as an invitation to follow her into the house.

“Look, about last night... I’m really sor --” He pauses, staring fixedly at her. “Is that my tee shirt?”

Skye freezes with her back to him, eyes darting down to inspect the shirt more closely. Give or take six years or so... it could very ~~definitely~~ ~~probably~~ likely be the one she swiped off his floor before running out the next morning.

_So much for it belonging to an ex-boyfriend._

“What?” She plucks at the material, drawing it away breezily as she turns back around. “No way. Belonged to my brother. Totally grabbed it last time I was in California.”

“You don’t _have_ a brother,” he responds slowly, eyes going back to her face.

“Uh, _yeah_. I do. His name is Trip. Built like a brick house, brother from another mother sort of thing.”

Grant brings both hands up to his face and closes his eyes in exasperation. “Anyway,” he continues, voice slightly muffled behind his fingers. “I wanted to say I’m sorry about last night. I shouldn’t have gotten upset. You’re Lara’s mother and you have every right to be mad at me.”

Wind thoroughly taken out of her sails, Skye can only gape at him in response.

He smirks. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you this quiet before. If I’d know that it would only take a simple apology, I would have --”

“-- _Right_.” She hastily butts in, pushing past him to set the flowers down on the counter. She gazes around frantically, hoping that the house isn’t a total mess and that her night of Bad Decisions is not recognisable from any remaining evidence. Thank god she’d put away the vodka. 

“I wanted to talk to you about that anyway, because you weren’t... _completely_ out of line by being there.”

“You don’t say,” Grant mocks softly, abandoning Skye in favor of walking into the kitchen and drinking in all of Lara’s artwork.

Seeing him in her space is _incredibly_ unsettling -- he somehow dominates everything in the room and takes up all the available oxygen at the same time -- and she has this irrational compulsion to do whatever it takes to get him out of there _pronto_.

 ~~Before she does something totally irresponsible, like jump his stupid bones~~.

_WHAT._

She flushes bright red.

Clearly she needs to get laid, _stat_.

“I mean it’s not like you’re her _father_ or anything,” Skye rushes through the words, hoping he doesn’t notice the way her voice is shaking, “But there’s no doubt that you’ve made an impression on Lara and it’s important to her that you’re around.”

He is slow to turn around this time, letting the words sink in carefully. “Skye. That means a lot to me. Thank you.”

... _It’s official. She’s totally going to hell for this_.

“Anyway,” she claps her hands together brightly, “I’m glad we had this talk. Truce?” Skye sticks her hand out expectantly.

Grant’s eyes go slowly from her open palm and up her arm in a way that feels as though he’s _touching_ her.

It’s everything she can do to stand there and remain placidly calm.

“Truce,” he finally agrees, enfolding her hand into his much larger one.

She’s not as successful hiding at hiding the slight jump that occurs as a result from feeling their palms connect -- _what is she, thirteen?!_ \-- a fact which doesn’t escape his notice, judging from the way his mouth curls up in a smirk briefly.

“So listen _neighbor_ ,” he drawls in open amusement, because he’s completely _not_ fooled by the way she’s busied herself opening cabinets restlessly and searching for god knows what. “I was thinking we could have a cookout tomorrow, sort of like your unofficial welcome to the neighborhood thing.”

“Love to, but I can’t.” Skye turns back to him with an apologetic look on her face. “We have plans.” 

“Really?” He tilts his head. “Because according to this calendar right here, you’re totally open.”

Skye closes her eyes and takes a moment to compose herself. She will _not_ let him win. “Must have gotten the days mixed up.” 

“Happens to the best of us,” Grant agrees in faux sympathy, eyes dancing as he knows just how badly she wants to renege on the invitation. “But don’t worry, it’ll be completely casual. A total _come as you are_ kind of thing.”

The idea of Grant Ward being _casual_ is somewhat mind boggling.

“Do you even know _how_ to do that?” She asks skeptically.

“I’ll even make you fish tacos,” He promises on his way out the door, totally ignoring her dig.

“Sounds great,” she smiles, and knows that he isn’t fooled by it for a second.

“Perfect. See you then.”

Skye waits until she’s locked it behind him to fling herself on the couch in despair. “ ‘I’ll make you fish tacos’,” she mimics in deep voice. She drags a blanket over her head completely, trying to block out all signs of the outside world. “Sure. _Great_. Make the exact food that had me throwing up my birth control the night we slept together _and now look where we are_.”

There’s a creak in the floorboard that has her whipping the blanket back down in shock.

Kara clears her throat delicately from where she is hovering just inside the doorway. “Am I... _interrupting_ something?”

“Just another day in the show where _Skye Makes Yet Another Reckless Decision_ ,” she sarcastically responds.

“Oh good,” Kara grabs a seltzer from the fridge. “I was afraid I had missed an episode. Fill me in.”

Skye groans loudly and then pins an accusatory gaze on her. “Why don’t we talk about your dubious choice in bedfellows?”

The leggy brunette arches her back in satisfaction. “Nothing dubious about it,” Kara responds smugly. “The man is _talented_.”

“Screw off,” Skye grumbles bitterly, arranging her limbs until she’s propped in the corner of the couch.

“Been there, done that. Got the tee shirt,” replies a thoroughly amused Kara.

“A fact that I was forced to bear witness to at an ungodly hour this morning,” she tartly responds.

“Don’t poke the sleeping bear,” Kara shrugs unapologetically. “Or is it _tiger_? I feel like that’s a more appropriate animal, given what transpired.”

“Oh my _GOD_.”

A pillow comes flying across the room, nearly hitting Kara in the face.

“I’ll say this for you... If Thomas is anything like his older brother, I’m not at _all_ surprised you took Grant for a ride.”

“It’s official. I’m in Hell.” Skye blinks, staring at the wall in a determined attempt to pretend like the entire conversation is not happening. 

“What was that Grant mentioned on his way out the door about a cookout tomorrow?”

Skye flings both arms over her head and blocks out all light and sound. “La la la la la I can’t _hear_ you.”

“Hey Lara loo!” Kara yells down the hall and waits until the little girl pokes her head out of the room. “Party at Grant’s tomorrow!”

“ _YAY_!” Lara bounces excitedly until she is all but perched on top of her mother and literally jumping for joy.

 _I hate you,_ Skye mouths at Kara.

And Kara just smiles the contented smile of one who has been well and truly satisfied on _all_ counts.

*

 

  


 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> my life is STILL IN SHAMBLES, friends. 
> 
> but everything's not lost, right?
> 
> hey, someone google bluebells and see if there's any significance to that little mention. [winks nonchalantly]


End file.
